


The Quickest Way to a Man's Heart is Through His Stomach

by Sukiyaki_Rut



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ages changed (obviously), Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Cooking Lessons, Cooking/baking, Depression, Kind of angsty, Lots of food references, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, They both need a Hug, Underage Drinking, cooking competitions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukiyaki_Rut/pseuds/Sukiyaki_Rut
Summary: Victor Nikiforov, college senior, is best known for creating the university's cooking club and annual competition in which participants create a dish based on its name alone.  He's won the competition three years running, but Katsuki Yuuri made an impression at the end of last spring.  As the school year progresses, Victor and Yuuri find themselves drawn to each other and falling more and more in love through their cooking, though neither can quite bring himself to express as much in words.Loosely inspired by an old-ish tumblr post about a hypothetical cooking show





	1. Wine and Dine

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thank you for clicking on this! I started writing because I was bored, but then I got into this idea and planned it all out. I should be posting every week, but that may change based on how my workload turns out. The first chapter switches POV a few times, but that's just to set it up. Later chapters will be strictly Victor or Yuuri. Those will also be longer than this one since this is mostly a prologue. Hope you all enjoy! Comments and kudos are always welcome!

Yuuri was drunk. Not just the slightly-tipsy, laugh-too-much drunk, but the strip-off-your-clothes, tell-strangers-you-love-them, blackout drunk. Phichit was struggling to wrestle his best friend out the door before someone pressed charges.

“Wait!” Yuuri exclaimed, lurching violently to the side. 

“ _No_ , Yuuri. You’re already going to regret this in the morning.” 

“But my coat,” Yuuri protested and stumbled over to the closet by the entryway. He tugged a black trench coat from a hanger and struggled to pull it on. With a sigh, Phichit helped him, only to get him out the door all the faster. Usually, he was pretty good about not letting Yuuri get _too_ drunk at parties, but he had gone to the bathroom for five minutes, and when he came back there was a stripper pole and Yuuri. Apparently, Yuuri had been drinking more than Phichit realized while standing back in that corner. 

“I love you,” Yuuri crooned, leaning against him. “You’re my best friend in the whole world.” 

“That’s great, Yuuri,” Phichit replied, ordering the Uber on his phone. Once in the car, Yuuri promptly fell asleep against him and just barely woke up again when they arrived at their apartment across town. Phichit half-carried him into the elevator and over to his bed. Yuuri mumbled something. “What’s that?” Phichit asked. 

“Sorry we lost,” Yuuri said again before falling soundly asleep. 

Phichit smiled at his friend who could be troublesome when he was drunk but also sweet and endearing. He placed a glass of water on the table by Yuuri’s bed and shut off the lights to go to his own room. It was almost four am, and he wasn’t as drunk as Yuuri, but he still wanted to sleep off the coming hangover. He just hoped Yuuri wouldn’t stress too much about the loss. There was a good chance he would try to blame it all on himself. 

… … … … … … … … … … … … ... … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … 

Since he was a kid, Victor had loved cooking. His mother had taught him since before he could walk or talk and was just in a little backpack that she wore when she couldn’t actively hold him. She’d made everything from apple pies to pirozhkis, and when Victor was old enough to stand on a stepstool beside her, he’d helped. Baking was his favorite because it was her favorite, but he could also make any dish someone wanted. And he made it better than anyone else as well. It was just an innate gift. His mother had entered him in his first cooking competition when he was five, and he’d been winning ever since. 

His mom had died when he was seventeen, midway through his last year of high school, and just before he turned eighteen. For months, he hadn’t cooked anything, but once school started, Christophe talked him into joining the school’s cooking club. By the end of his freshman year, Victor had organized the school’s first intramural cooking competition. He’d won of course, but everyone had so much fun, and the feast afterward was so phenomenal that it was quickly voted to become an annual event. As expected, Victor won again the next year, and now at the end of his junior year, he had just secured his third win. 

The afterparty this time though had gotten a bit crazier than expected. There was alcohol, of course, because there was always alcohol at a college party, but there was either more this year than last or people had just _really_ enjoyed the competition. Victor didn’t blame them. It had been close this time, with a couple of sophomores creating a Japanese dish Victor had never heard of for the category “Home is Where the Calories Are.” 

The competition was a little different than most; since Viktor wanted everyone to have fun more than anything else, he’d designed the rules such that for two weeks before the competition, people could submit names of dishes. Three of these would be chosen by the judges and announced the day of to create a meal with an appetizer, main course, and a dessert. It upped the stakes, since there was little way to prepare for just hearing the name of a dish, but the general consensus was that this made the game a lot of fun. People also competed in pairs, so they had two heads to brainstorm with and to remember the recipe of whatever they were cooking. 

After the main course, Viktor and Christophe were tied with the two sophomores, but they won decisively with Viktor’s beignets for “Snow Day.” The second-place sophomores had made some kind of colorful Thai dessert with shredded coconut that had been delicious too. Now though, the competition and afterparty were both over, and Victor’s apartment was a mess. Whatever. He could leave it until morning. His head was still full of thoughts about the Japanese man who had danced so seductively and then asked Victor to be his coach. It was a funny request, since they were both in the club after all, but maybe next fall he could arrange something. 

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Yuuri woke up with a raging headache. He gulped down the glass of water Phichit had set out for him because Phichit really was the best friend ever, and then he tried to remember what had happened to his shirt. And why his pants were on backwards. And whose coat he was wearing. Oh no! Had he brought someone over? Yuuri looked around frantically for a moment before deciding that no one was hiding under the mound of dirty clothes on his floor. He tried to remember last night, but all he had after losing the competition was a fuzzy memory of saying yes to a glass of champagne. 

Where had he gotten champagne? Oh, right. Phichit had made him go to the afterparty even though it was at Victor Nikiforov’s apartment. The man who won the competition. The man Yuuri had idolized since Yuuko got him into watching cooking competitions as a kid. The man he had been hopelessly in love with since freshman orientation. And try as he might, Yuuri couldn’t remember any details of the past night. Well…it couldn’t be _too_ bad, right? He’d made it home at least, and with most of his clothes. 

Once he was dressed in something not soaked in alcohol, Yuuri stumbled into the kitchen where Phichit was drinking a cup of coffee. He had one ready for Yuuri as well. Yuuri mumbled a thank you and dropped into a chair. Phichit would mention it if anything bad had happened, right? Yeah, yes, of course he would. And the longer they sat silently drinking their coffee, the more relieved Yuuri felt. 

Eventually, he made it back to his room where he tossed last night’s pants and tie onto the laundry pile and picked up the coat that was definitely not his. He could smell cologne on it still, and that was definitely not his, though it smelled good…and familiar. He reached into the pockets, wondering if there was any way to figure out whose it was and return it before everyone left for the summer. What he found made him sure he wouldn’t be returning it.


	2. What's Cooking?

“Yuuri! Come on! We’re going to be late!” Phichit exclaimed from the hall. Yuuri rolled his eyes at Phichit’s blustering. They weren’t going to be late. The thing didn’t start for an hour. But he knew Phichit would keep insisting until they left, so he put his phone in his pocket and grabbed his shoes. He’d told Phichit he was getting ready, but he wasn’t really planning to dress up for the back to school club meeting. Jeans and t-shirt would be fine.

At the last second before going out the door, he opened his closet door to see Victor Nikiforov’s coat. _Don’t_ , he told himself, but he leaned in to smell it anyway. The odor of the cologne was long gone, but Yuuri liked to imagine he could still smell traces of it. Victor would undoubtedly be at the dinner tonight – it was at his apartment, after all – but it would be incredibly embarrassing to return it now. Not to mention, it would involve talking face-to-face with Victor Nikiforov whom Yuuri had only idolized for years. No, returning the coat was definitely not an option, but he could still get a little confidence boost once in a while from pretending he could smell Victor. 

Phichit pounded on his door again. “All right!” Yuuri called, shutting the closet and heading out. 

“That’s what you’re wearing? Forty minutes to get dressed, and you’re wearing the same thing you were all day?” 

Yuuri shrugged. “It’s not supposed to be fancy,” he said. “It’s just a dinner party because we’re a cooking club, and it’s Victor’s last year.” 

“Which means you should make your move now before he’s gone. You should wear those new skinny jeans! They make your ass look amazing!” 

“I’m not wearing the skinny jeans. I want to be able to eat at this thing.” 

“But you also want to get Victor to notice you,” Phichit pointed out. 

“Not because of my ass!” Yuuri exclaimed. “I want him to like my cooking! To be impressed by me!” 

Phichit was quiet, but only for a moment. “He’d be impressed by your ass too.” Yuuri gave him a look, and he shrugged. “I’m just saying, it couldn’t hurt.” 

“What about being late?” 

“We have plenty of time!” Phichit grinned as if he hadn’t been begging Yuuri to hurry up for the past twenty minutes. 

Yuuri huffed but went into his room to put on the skinny jeans. He also exchanged his t-shirt for a button-down, and Phichit gave him an approving nod when he displayed the new outfit. They took an Uber to the apartment building, which was much closer to campus than their own cheap living space. Classes officially started on Monday, but since most people were back in town, Victor had sent an email to the group mailing list notifying them of a back-to-school potluck at his place on Friday. 

The group wasn’t large, but there were enough people that Victor send out a spreadsheet asking people to fill in what they would bring. Yuuri had baked a Cinnamon Apple Crumb Cake, and Phichit was bringing carrots roasted in a honey and garlic butter glaze. The dress code may not have been formal, but food was where everyone tried to impress each other. 

Christophe Giacometti was the one who met them at the door. “Hello boys!” he grinned. “Table’s that way. Yuuri and Phichit, right? Yuuri that cake looks divine, though you look rather delectable yourself, in my opinion.” 

Yuuri flushed as Christophe tapped his rear, but Phichit laughed. “Which one’s yours?” he asked Christophe. The French man pointed out a tray of crab and gouda stuffed mushrooms, and Phichit went over to admire them and place his carrots nearby. Yuuri examined the display of foods. Not everyone had arrived yet, but already the buffet tables set up were filling with masterpieces. 

A delectable bouillabaisse with a bottle of white wine beside it for those who really wanted to enjoy the flavors. There were baked sweet potatoes filled with chickpeas and topped with a pesto. Bundles of asparagus wrapped in bacon, though knowing the others in the club, it was more likely to be a fancy prosciutto than ordinary bacon that one could get from any grocery store. Yuuri peeked into a slow cooker near the other entrées and inhaled a heavenly aroma of a pork tenderloin baked with honey and apples. The vegan and vegetarian options were just as incredible. Mila arrived with ratatouille as Yuuri took in the room, and someone else had made vegetarian enchiladas. 

“Pretty nice, right?” a Russian-accented voice said behind him. 

Yuuri jumped. “Vic-Victor!” he exclaimed. 

Victor laughed, “Yes, that’s my name. And you are Katsuki Yuuri, correct?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri nodded. “Or Yuuri Katsuki if you do it the American way. I really don’t mind. It’s listed that way in all the school records. It’s really just in Japan that that I have it the other way. And on my social media because my family follows me there.” He realized he was rambling and forced himself to stop. 

Victor was smiling. “I like your pants,” he said. Someone knocked at the door, and he glanced away. “I should get that. It’s nice to see you, Yuuri.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said as Victor walked away. “You too.” 

Phichit ran over almost immediately and grabbed Yuuri’s arm. “What’d he say?” he demanded. 

“He said he likes my pants,” Yuuri admitted. 

“I knew it!” Phichit shouted, causing a few people to look at them. 

Yuuri shushed him. “Come on, let’s sit down.” They took their seats, and the other club members joined them as more people arrived. Georgi was the last to arrive with dramatic eyeliner and a container of black squid ink pasta mixed with garlic and cherry tomatoes in a white wine-based sauce. He was barely through the door before he started telling everyone the latest tragedy in his romance with Anya, his on-again, off-again girlfriend and how his recipe was really metaphorical for their relationship. 

Before he could get to the symbolism of the black pasta, Victor politely cut him off to give an opening toast, thanking them all for attending. “And now,” he said, “let’s eat!” 

“Hey, wait,” Mila said as people started to rise from their chairs. “Where’s your dish?” 

Victor’s lips quirked up into a little smile. “It’s a surprise.” 

As plates filled, the conversation rose, and Yuuri tried not to stare too openly at Victor. “You should just talk to him,” Phichit said, noticing anyway. “Ask him how he liked your cake.” 

“Maybe,” Yuuri said, which they both knew translated to no. Yuuri drank his wine and ate as much of the delicious food as he could without bursting out of his jeans. After a few glasses of wine though, maybe he would talk to Victor. It wouldn’t be weird. Everyone wanted his opinions on their cooking. Yeah, he could do that. And even if he’d hated it, Victor wouldn’t say so explicitly. Probably. But what if he did? No, Yuuri would just have to take whatever he said gracefully and thank him for the advice. Right. That’s what he would do. After Victor revealed his surprise dish. The man loved to surprise people. 

Finally, when most of the food was gone, and people had moved on from wine to coffee and tea, Victor went into the kitchen. He returned with a plate on which rested a large white ball. White chocolate, Yuuri guessed. But a little disappointing after some of Victor’s other creations – swans carved out of apples and elaborate cakes that looked fake. Victor stepped back into the kitchen as everyone looked at the dish. 

“Do we cut into it?” Michele voiced the thought everyone was sharing. Then Victor returned with a gravy boat full of hot fudge and a grin that he could barely contain. Only Christophe remained unaffected by Victor’s antics. He’d probably watched the other man practice this dish a million times over the summer. 

Slowly, Victor poured the hot fudge onto the very center at the top of the ball, and as the hot fudge met the cold chocolate, it melted before finally breaking across the plate in slices to reveal at its center a chocolate cake topped with a rose of icing and a little roll of chocolate. After a moment of silence, the table burst into applause. Yuuri clapped as much as anyone else, but after a display like that, he didn’t think he would be asking for Victor’s opinion on his own dessert. They just didn’t compare. 

Everyone got a piece of the cake and a bit of the white chocolate casing, while Victor preened a little over the successful dessert. Phichit nudged Yuuri when the cake was gone and people were starting to disperse. “Go compliment him at least.” 

Yuuri looked at where Victor was laughing with Emil and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m kind of tired.” 

“You’re sure?” Phichit asked, and Yuuri nodded. “All right, well, I’m going to thank our hosts at least.” 

From the look in his eye, Yuuri knew that meant something bad. “No, Phichit, don’t –“ he started, but Phichit was already inserting himself into Victor’s conversation. 

“So what’s cooking?” Yuuri heard him ask, and he wished he could just disappear right on the spot. Victor laughed though, and Yuuri decided to move away before Phichit could find a way to get him involved in the conversation. 

“Hey, Yuuri!” he heard and turned to see Christophe waving him over. Yuuri hesitated, but it was a desperately needed escape, so he joined Christophe by the desserts table. “So, Victor looks pretty hot tonight, right?” 

Yuuri flinched. “What? I mean, does he? I didn’t notice.” 

Christophe laughed. “It’s fine, Yuuri.” The Frenchman popped a chocolate covered strawberry in his mouth and continued speaking around it. “About eighty-five percent of the school is in love with him, and the rest are lesbians or people like me who live in too close a proximity to still be infatuated with Monsieur ‘Eighty dollars of white chocolate is worth it for their reactions.’” 

It totally was, in Yuuri’s opinion. He certainly didn’t have eighty dollars to spend on chocolate, but if he were able to do what Victor could, it would be worth it anyway. “I’m, uh, I’m not in love with him,” Yuuri said though. “I mean, he’s attractive obviously, but…” he glanced at Victor and left his sentence unfinished. 

“Attractive,” Christophe said, “is an understatement. He’s Victor. In addition to being a culinary genius, he’s unpredictable. That’s part of the appeal, isn’t it? When you watch him cook, you never know what he’s going to do, but you know it’s going to be phenomenal.” 

Yuuri could only nod in agreement. He didn’t want to admit that he’d watched every baking competition Victor had been in. That he’d chosen this university for the chance of meeting Victor, never once imagining being over at Victor’s apartment for dinner. Well, he’d imagined it, but it wasn’t in a large group setting, and it wasn’t something he really thought plausible. And yet… Really being this close should be enough. Victor knew his name. He was on the level of Gordon Ramsey or Mario Batali but a million times more handsome, and he knew Yuuri’s name, had eaten his food. He wished it were enough. 

“You know,” Christophe was saying now. “He’s like that in everyday life too. It’s not just changing the club meeting plans at the last minute. You’re cute, Yuuri, and you’ve got a nice ass. Don’t give up hope.” Christophe started to move away then stopped. “Also, tell Phichit to give me his number, would you?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went ahead and wrote this one. I got super hungry writing it lol, but I figure since I'm into the story and have a lot of free time at the moment, I'll probably just keep going until I have to slow down. Hope you like it!


	3. The Way the Cookie Crumbles

If Victor had to choose his favorite day of the week, it would be Sunday without question. While he wasn’t religious himself, his mother had firmly believed in taking a day of rest, and Victor had kept the tradition for his own sanity. He slept in on Sunday mornings, but forced himself to get out of bed before noon since staying in later usually was just a good way to get depressed and lonely. He went for walks when it wasn’t too cold, but the best part of the day was always dinner. Since he and his brother Yuri had moved in with their uncle Yakov his last year of high school, it had been hard to adjust to living with the gruff older man. Their mother was all they had before; neither of their fathers had stuck around very long, and Yuri’s grandfather still lived in Russia.

Yakov wasn’t the best with kids, but he made an effort and eventually Victor and Yuri figured out that he really did care even if he wasn’t good at showing it. He’d made both of them attend counseling sessions, which Victor had rejected until he started college and realized they weren’t so bad. One of the things his therapist had suggested, in fact, was establishing a family ritual in order to feel closer. So, although Victor attended school and lived in Detroit, he drove the hour north once a week to have dinner with Yuri and Yakov. 

Christophe had come with him this week, and Victor could hear him annoying Yuri in the living room. In actuality Yuri didn’t mind Christophe too much and even said he was “sometimes not terrible.” Christophe treated Yuri like the little brother he’d never had which translated roughly to annoying him and giving him unnecessarily detailed advice about men. 

“Vitya, is the food ready?” Yakov asked, coming into the kitchen. 

“Almost,” Victor said, opening the oven to check on his pirozhki since Yura would throw a fit if they weren’t served. They were the most important part of the back to school dinner as well as every holiday dinner in the high schooler’s opinion. 

“Those are ready,” Yakov said, looking at the pastries. 

Victor rolled his eyes. “But if I leave them in just a little longer, they’ll be perfect. Why have good enough when you can have better?” 

“Because I’m hungry,” Yakov scowled, but he left Victor alone and called Yuri in to set the table. Yakov pretended to be annoyed with Victor’s perfectionism, but it was undeniable that what he cooked was simply the best, even if it meant cooking the pirozhki a little longer than the recipe said to make even better. In any case, Victor had made these so many times, he no longer needed a recipe. He had his own perfected one in his head. 

Finally, he served the pirozhki alongside an apple and bacon risotto flavored with sage, and a peach crisp for dessert. “What, you aren’t treating us to one of your magical science experiment desserts tonight?” Christophe asked before launching into a description of Victor’s cake from Friday. Victor preened a little as he helped himself to his food. 

“Of course,” Christophe said, “there’s no one who can beat Victor for presentation, but in terms of flavor, Yuuri’s apple crumble was stellar.” 

“What?” Victor asked, looking up from his risotto. He tried to remember the dish, but in truth he hadn’t eaten much at the party. He’d been too focused on making sure it all went perfectly. That was the answer he never gave when people asked how he stayed thin. He usually only ate a few bites of anything he made. In interviews, he laughed it off by talking about exercise and everything in moderation, but the truth was he loved the cooking more than the eating. He liked seeing other people react to his food, but it wasn’t a surprise to the chef who made it. And now, of course, it was harder to surprise people when everyone knew his name and his skill. 

“Did you not have any?” Christophe asked, shocked. “I guess I’m not surprised. It was gone before most of the main dishes. The apples were perfect, and I think there was something nutty in the flavoring too. It was spectacular. You should have him make it for the next potluck too.” 

Yuri scoffed. “Victor’s too busy eating his own food to eat someone else’s.” 

“But this is Yuuri Katsuki,” Christophe said, arching his eyebrows suggestively. Yuri kicked his leg under the table. 

“Well, I don’t like him if you do. And he stole my name.” 

Victor laughed, probably more than necessary. “Aww, Yura. It’s okay. We’ll just call you Yurio to distinguish.” 

“What?!” Yuri demanded. “But you knew me first!” 

“Who is this Yuuri?” Yakov interrupted, preventing Yuri’s tirade. “Is he someone you like, Vitya?” 

“No, of course not,” Victor laughed. “He’s just someone in the club.” Though Victor couldn’t help but remember the end of the year party last May. If Yuuri cooked like he danced, maybe Victor _would_ have to try one of his dishes. And Yuuri had asked him to be his coach as well. Well, he didn’t mind sharing his expertise. He’d volunteered at a few workshops with kids before. This wouldn’t be so different, and maybe he would get to know more about Katsuki besides the fact that he looked positively sinful in skinny jeans. 

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“So how good was this apple crumble?” Victor asked. “Compared to mine?” 

Christophe glanced over at him from the driver’s seat. They’d left Yakov’s place about ten minutes before and Victor had been silent the whole time, considering Yuuri’s dessert apparently. He’d been quiet through most of supper as well. “Well, if yours is a ten, I’d place his at eleven.” 

Victor raised a single eyebrow. “Don’t joke.” 

“I’m not.” Christophe was quiet for a moment. “Your competition in the spring is biased. You win on presentation and creativeness, but if you and Yuuri had to make the same dish, no clever titles involved, well, I’d bet on his. Assuming he wasn’t nervous, which Phichit says is something that happens.” 

“Phichit? Who’s that?” 

“Yuuri’s roommate.” 

“Ah,” Victor said, connecting the dots. So Yuuri was taken. It explained why he and the Thai man Victor now categorized as Phichit were so inseparable. But still, if Yuuri were such a good chef, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know him. He’d give Yuuri a few tips on presentation, and maybe in a few years, they would be competing against each other on television or striking a deal to advertise some frozen meal brand, though Victor liked to think he would never stoop so low as to advocate such processed food. Maybe he would invent something better, just as cheap but not disgusting. That could be an idea for the future. After all, he didn’t know how long he would be productive just as a competitive chef. Eventually, he’d have to do something. Start a restaurant maybe. It seemed rather less thrilling though. He loved the excitement and adrenaline of racing against the clock to create something perfect and surprising. 

In fact, that gave him an idea. Maybe when they reached the apartment, he could try it out. He was thinking it would be a cake, maybe something like a _mille feuille_ but round and on the top layer, he could ice a clock face onto it. It would have to be very precise, and he’s have to be careful not to crush the cake by accident, but it would be lovely if he could do it, and maybe he could perfect it and make his own icing that was extra light and sugary but perfect for writing the numbers still so that – 

“Victor,” Christophe said. “Did you even hear anything I said?” 

“Somehting about Yuuri’s roommate,” Victor replied. 

“I said that five minutes ago. You’ve got to stop drifting into food fantasies while people are talking. Or was this a Yuuri fantasy?” 

Victor hit his arm lightly. “I don’t have Yuuri fantasies.” 

“So you’ve gotten over the dancing then?” 

“I’m not going to date him,” Victor insisted. “And I was thinking of a _mille feuille_ anyway.” 

Christophe nodded sagely. “Right, so it’s going to be a one-night stand with French desserts for breakfast.” 

“Shut up.” 

Christophe was still smirking at the thought, and Victor knew there was nothing he could say to make him think otherwise, even though he was interested in Yuuri for his cooking only. Someone who could allegedly make a better apple crumble than he could was worth knowing because Victor’s, as in all his recipes, was perfect. 

Back at the apartment, Victor went immediately to the kitchen where he took out his baking tools. “It’s after ten, Victor. I thought we said no night baking on school nights.” 

“ _You_ said that. And it’s only the first day. Nothing important’s happening.” 

Christophe leaned against the door frame. “Isn’t your chemistry class at nine am?” 

“One hour, and I’ll go to bed,” Victor promised. 

“I don’t believe that, but all right,” Christophe said, heading to his room. He may have been the one to get Victor back into cooking again, but he was also the one who had to deal with Victor’s late-night bursts of inspiration that often made him late for his morning classes. 

Around midnight, Victor put the finished tray of _mille feuille_ in the fridge and checked the time. If he woke up at 8:30, he would still have plenty of time to get ready and get to class on time. And he knew from experience that five hours of sleep was all he really needed, which meant he had about three more hours before he needed to go to bed. 

Victor got out the flour. 

This was what his mother called stress-baking. He’d joined in plenty of times throughout his childhood, and now as he made the pasta for his ravioli, he remembered involuntarily the many nights in high school when he’d stayed up all night cooking as his mother underwent her surgeries and hospital stays. Somehow, he’d made the connection between her and food, and he’d created a superstition that so long as he was cooking, he was keeping her alive. It was like some kind of agreement between him and the universe. It had worked once, so it had to work again. 

More recently, it was what he did when he didn’t want to think too much. It was so much better and easier to focus on crafting perfect dishes and altering his recipes to make them better than ever before than to acknowledge that he didn’t eat most of his own food and his sleep schedule swung between non-existent and hibernation. And when he was restless, as he was ninety percent of the time, it gave him something to do. A way to feel useful, like he was contributing something to the world. And it worked, usually, when he created dishes that made people gasp in awe and moan from the flavors, but now it was expected, and the surprise of his dishes...no longer surprised them. 

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At eight forty-five am, Christophe wandered into the kitchen and found Victor asleep at the table with a bowl of half-mixed cookie dough beside him. Of course. Christophe shook Victor awake. “You’re going to be late,” he said. 

Victor blinked a few times before seeing the clock on the stove. “Fuck!” he shouted. He ran into his room, changed into a shirt not dusted with flour, ran a comb through his hair, and grabbed his backpack. He ran out the door within three minutes, with the knowledge that he would still probably be late. But at least the professor would know what to expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be reading about the European Union, but here's this instead. Next chapter will probably be up tonight too, if I'm being honest. Enjoy!


	4. Half-Baked Ideas

Yuuri wasn’t so sure about this chemistry class. It wasn’t required for his degree, but he still had to complete a couple of science classes, and this whole class was supposed to be about the chemistry of cooking. It was in the culinary school, so Yuuri figured it wouldn’t be quite so difficult as taking a hardcore chemistry class where he would have to do titrations and complicated things. He’d considered majoring in Culinary Arts to begin with since that was his passion, but most chefs didn’t make it big time, and his parents were helping him pay to go to school in the US, so he knew it would be good to have a major that he could use. Education had caught his eye instead, and so cooking was relegated to club events, stressful evenings, and apparently the occasional gen ed.

They weren’t, as he had hoped, in a kitchen that looked like a Harry Potter-esque potions classroom. It was just an ordinary lecture hall filled with forty-odd students who were sitting as far apart from one another as possible, except for those taking the class with friends. Yuuri had tried to talk Phichit into taking it with him, but he’d found a research assistant position doing something with hamsters and psychology that needed him at the same time. It was fine though. Yuuri knew cooking, and that would get him through the chemistry part of the class. Anyway, Phichit had mostly taken biology classes anyway, so he probably wouldn’t be a ton of help anyway. 

The professor started off by welcoming them back to school and then proceeding to project his syllabus onto the board and read through it word by word, stopping occasionally to go on a lecture-tangent about how he really, _really_ hated tardiness. About ten minutes into the class, the door opened, and everyone turned to see who would be invoking the professor’s ire. 

Victor. Victor Nikiforov. 

Yuuri stared. No way. He had a class with Victor? How was he supposed to focus on anything? But, no, it would be fine. It wasn’t like they were going to be lab partners. Victor didn’t even know him really. And he was majoring in Culinary Arts, so it made sense he’d be in the class. This was normal. Right. 

Too late, Yuuri realized he was still staring at Victor while the rest of the class had focused back on the professor. Victor was the darling of the department. He could be late as much as he wanted, and they wouldn’t care. But then, Victor made eye contact with Yuuri, smiled his heart-shaped smile, and sat. Right. Next. To. Yuuri. 

“Hey,” Victor said, as if he wasn’t Victor fucking Nikiforov sitting right next to Yuuri in a cooking class where oh fuck he would probably have to cook something and Victor would critique it and he would be embarrassed and then he would probably drop the class or fail it and then he would have to take something next semester to fulfill the credit and what if that set him back a year and he couldn’t graduate on time or it cost too much to keep going and he didn’t graduate at all and it was all because of Victor Nikiforov sitting next to him in this class that he never should have taken, why couldn’t he have just taken astronomy, and oh God, Yuuri was going to be sick. 

“Are…are you okay?” Victor asked. 

“Fine,” Yuuri said. His voice came out as a high-pitched squeak. He turned to face the professor, his posture painfully perfect as he missed every word of the syllabus. It was online anyway. He wondered how long it would be before he could run to the bathroom and freak out properly. Did he need to ask permission? He was sitting weirdly close to the front. Sitting in the back was much better for quick escapes. And he didn’t want to just run out – people would think it was weird and the professor might think he was dropping, which he still might, but he didn’t want to make a bad impression if he didn’t drop. Fuck. He really needed to calm down. Would it be weird if he took a pill right now? In front of everyone? With Victor still looking at him with that concerned face? Yes, yes it would definitely be weird. 

He glanced at his watch. 9:12. Victor had been here two minutes. How the fuck was Yuuri supposed to get through the rest of the class? His leg was bouncing up and down. He put a hand on it to make it stop. God, now he was sweating. Was it noticeable? How long did it take for sweat stains to form? Was that worth googling? Now he really needed to know. Yuuri took his phone out of his pocket and tried to type the question without Victor seeing. 

“And there are to be _no phones_ in this class,” the professor said loudly. He approached Yuuri’s row, and Yuuri again wished he’d sat in the back. Most professors didn’t even care about phones anymore. Why did he have to get the one who did? 

“Sorry, Professor,” Victor said before Yuuri or the professor could say anything else. “I asked Yuuri for the time. Didn’t mean to be a distraction.” Victor smiled, and the professor was silent for a moment. 

“Well,” he said at last. “In the future, wear a watch.” 

“Yes, sir,” Victor said smoothly. The professor returned to the front of the classroom and continued going over the grading policy. Victor turned to Yuuri with a sly smile and slid his sleeve up to reveal a shiny Rolex. 

Yuuri tried to smile back, but he was pretty sure it was more of a grimace. He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I-I need to bathroom,” he told Victor. He could have hit himself after the words came out of his mouth. _I need to bathroom?_ Victor was going to think he was an idiot. Victor only nodded though and turned back to the professor while Yuuri made his exit as quickly as possible without literally running to the doors. 

He ran once he reached the hallway and darted into the first bathroom he saw, terrifying a freshman girl. He shouted an apology before finding the mens’ room instead. He locked himself in a stall and tried to catch his breath. Okay, he needed his meds. They were in the front pocket of his backpack… His backpack was still in the classroom. Shit. 

Well, he could just go back after everyone left. It was 9:20 now, so only thirty minutes. Then he could go to the student union, buy a consolation cheeseburger and large milkshake, and switch into a different class. Right. Problem solved. 

Yuuri sat on the floor and closed his eyes. Thirty minutes. It took ten to get his breathing back to normal. Then he was able to just play a game on his phone as he waited for the time to pass. 9:50 came at last, and he decided to wait a couple extra minutes just to give everyone time to leave. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door of his stall, and Yuuri looked at the white and red converse. He knew those shoes. 

“Yuuri?” Victor asked. “That’s you right? I’m not talking to a stranger?” 

Yuuri didn’t say anything. Maybe he would just go away. 

“I have your backpack.” 

Shit. Yuuri stood up. He hoped he didn’t look like too much of a mess. Okay. On three, he would open the door. One. Two. Three. He didn’t do it. Dammit, why was he like this? “Is everything all right?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri realized Victor was just on the other side of the door, inches away. Even with the door between them, he didn’t think he’d ever been so close to Victor. “I’m fine,” Yuuri lied. 

“So you are in there,” Victor said, his voice containing a hint of a laugh. “You want to open up, so I can give you your bag?” 

“No, not really,” Yuuri heard himself say. Why did he say that? That was dumb. Also, did it sound flirty? He didn’t want to sound flirty. 

Victor nudged the backpack under the stall door, but his shoes didn’t move away. “Well, you, uh, you didn’t miss much in the class. Just general syllabus stuff. We’ll have three labs where we do actual cooking. I was thinking we could be partners. For the cooking! Obviously, not like _partners_ partners.” 

Yuuri’s lips tugged up into a little smile for a second. Who knew Victor could be flustered? “I think I’m going to drop actually.” 

“Oh. Really?” Victor fell silent. 

There was a pause for a moment. “Yeah,” Yuuri said eventually. “I just…chemistry’s not really my thing.” 

Another pause. “I could help you,” Victor suggested. “I mean, if you want. All chefs should know a little chemistry, right?” 

“I’m not really a chef,” Yuuri said softly. He hadn’t meant for Victor to hear it, but he did anyway. Of course he did. 

“You could be,” Victor replied. Yuuri imagined Victor was leaning against the other side of the door just as he was. “I could give you some pointers if you ever wanted to do something like that.” 

“What, like lessons?” 

“Yeah. If you want them.” 

Yuuri hesitated. He did. He wanted them a lot. He wanted to be as good as if not better than Victor. “I don’t have a lot of money,” he said though. Best to be practical and not fantasize over cooking with Victor. Their hands touching as they kneaded dough or Victor getting some kind of pastry filling on his lips and Yuuri leaning in to – NO. That was _not_ what was happening. Even if he could afford it, this was just Victor being nice and feeling sorry for him. 

“No charge,” Victor said though. 

“You can’t just give me free cooking lessons,” Yuuri reminded him. “You’re famous.” 

Victor seemed to consider this. “Okay, well, I’ll give you cooking lessons if you stay in the class and promise to compete against me in the spring again. I think you could challenge me.” 

Really? Yuuri wondered how much of this was due to his actual cooking and how much was just a mix of pity and having seen Yuuri in skinny jeans on Friday. Because he might be a decent cook, but he could never challenge Victor. “Okay,” he said though. It wasn’t even a conscious thought to say it. Because whatever Victor’s reasons really were, Yuuri knew this was too good an offer to pass up. 

“Really?” Victor asked, sounding surprised. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “Yeah, I’ll do it.” He wondered if he should mention Victor’s coat and decided that he should maybe just count his blessings and not ruin everything by showing up with a weirdly semi-stolen coat. Better to keep some things quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I wrote another one. A chapter a week is now looking more like I'll finish the whole thing in two weeks if that.


	5. Don't Cry Over Spilt Milk

Victor checked the address Yuuri had texted him and looked up at the kind of shitty apartment building before him. Yep, this was right. Okay. He rang the bell for Yuuri’s apartment, and a second later, the door clicked open. Victor climbed the dark staircase up to Yuuri’s apartment and knocked on the door. It swung open, and he stared in confusion for a moment, not seeing anyone, then he looked down to see a little girl of about five. “Uh, I think I have the wrong place,” Victor said.

The girl’s eyes suddenly grew very wide. “VICTOR!” she exclaimed. Victor took a step back. The five-year-old watched cooking shows? She ran away suddenly and came back with a second identical version of herself who also started to scream Victor’s name. 

“Girls, keep it down!” Yuuri’s voice called then, and he came into the room. He froze when he saw Victor. “Hey,” he said, his voice wavering a little. 

“Hey,” Victor said back. “You…you have kids?” That was unexpected. 

“What? No! No, these are my friend Yuuko’s girls. Loop and Lutz. Their mom had to take Axel to the eye doctor, and she needed someone to watch them.” He hesitated. “I-I’m sorry, I should have texted. They’ll probably be picked up soon, but I’m not sure when, so…I don’t know that the cooking is going to happen today.” 

“Oh,” Victor said. “Well…I could hang out? We can make dinner later? Or make dinner for them if they’re still here?” 

Yuuri hesitated, and one of the girls – Victor had no idea which – ran over to him. “Yuuri, you have to say yes! It’s Victor!” 

Yuuri shushed her. “Sorry,” he told Victor. “Their mom really likes your stuff. She has all your cookbooks.” 

“So does Yuuri!” the other girl added, and Yuuri picked her up. 

“I think it’s nap time,” he announced. 

“We don’t take naps!” the girl in his arms protested, and Victor smiled a little. He wanted kids now. Was he too young for that? Probably. Whatever. He wanted kids. Like 30 of them. 

“You know,” Victor said, “it’s almost time to eat anyway. Maybe Loop and Lutz would want to help us?” 

The two girls turned to Yuuri with wide, pleading eyes. “Can we?” “Pleeeease?” “You’re sure you don’t mind?” Yuuri asked, looking to Victor who shook his head. “They’re picky eaters,” he warned. 

“I’m sure they’ll like my cooking,” Victor grinned. He knelt to be on their level. “What do you girls want?” 

“Mac ‘n Cheese!” they shouted simultaneously. 

Victor blinked. He’d hoped for something a little more complicated. “Okay,” he said, trying to work with it. “I know a good baked mac ‘n cheese casserole type dish with three kinds of – “

“No,” one of the girls glared at him. 

“A truffle mac ‘n cheese?” he tried. 

The other one shook her head. 

“They want the box mix,” Yuuri said. “I told you they’re picky. All right, girls, Victor and I will make that for you, and we’ll get you when we’re ready to add the milk and the cheese.” 

They agreed to this and ran over to the couch where they started to play a colorful cartoon that had been paused when Victor arrived. Yuuri turned to Victor with a smile. “Shall we?” 

Victor forced a smile of his own and followed Yuuri to the kitchen where he took a pot and filled it with water to boil. Yuuri looked at Victor, “You don’t have any tips for my boiling water skills, do you?” 

Well, the confidence was unexpected. Victor rather liked it. “No, you’ve mastered that,” he replied. “Though maybe if you have some regular pasta, we could make some mac ‘n cheese with something a bit more interesting than powdered cheese.” 

“No offence, Victor, but I’m pretty sure they’ll notice if we serve them rigatoni with gouda. We’ll make something more fun next time though.” 

Victor flicked his eyes to Yuuri’s. “Next time?” he asked. 

“I mean, if you want a next time. Obviously, I’m not saying there has to be one, especially if you think the mac ‘n cheese thing is dumb. I know it’s pretty rare for you to give lessons, so you should probably save your time for someone who won’t waste it.” 

Oh. Victor wanted confident Yuuri back. “You’re not wasting my time,” he said. “I want to meet up again.” 

Yuuri dropped his eyes, and Victor saw a smile pull his lips up though Yuuri tried to hide it. He was so beautiful. Victor wanted to close the distance between them, tilt Yuuri’s head up, and kiss him incessantly. He forced the thoughts away. “So, where’s your roommate?” he asked, reminding himself that Yuuri was not available. 

“At his internship,” Yuuri said, accepting the change in topic. “He’s a research assistant for an experiment with hamsters and psychology.” 

Oh. “They don’t hurt the hamsters, do they?” Victor asked. 

“No, of course not! Phichit loves hamsters. He could never do anything to hurt one,” Yuuri grinned. Victor felt a little jealous. He wanted Yuuri to smile when he talked about _Victor_ not Phichit, though he was sure Phichit was a wonderful person. It was good for Yuuri to have someone who made him happy. 

Victor realized then that he probably should have said something in response, and now there was an awkward silence. “Is it weird?” Yuuri asked suddenly. “That I have all your cookbooks, I mean?” 

“No, it’s nice to meet a fan,” Victor said easily. Because Yuuri was a fan. Nothing more. And he needed to remember that. And then suddenly, he blurted out, “I have a dog.” 

Yuuri blinked, surprised, and Victor hated himself. 

“At my apartment, I mean,” he continued, trying to make this a reasonable topic to talk about. “So, you should know that, if you come over. To cook.” 

“Oh,” Yuuri said. “Right. And yeah, I mean, I don’t have any allergies. Actually, I really like dogs. I have one at home in Japan.” 

Why did Yuuri just keep getting better? Victor was going to be head over heels by the time he left. “What kind?” he asked. “I have a poodle named Makkachin.” 

Yuuri was looking away again, and blushing? “Also a poodle,” he said. He paused. “His name is Vicchan.” 

“That’s cute,” Victor grinned. “It sounds kind of like Victor.” 

Yuuri laughed loudly. “Yeah, you’re right! I never noticed that!” 

Victor’s smile widened. He liked making Yuuri laugh. The water was boiling now though, and they had to go back to the box mix. Victor felt a little sick looking at it. Not because of some pretentious refusal to eat pre-packaged food, though really he doubted the health benefits of powdered cheese. It was just the memories he associated with it. 

In the months after his mother’s death, it had been the only thing he’d managed to make. He couldn’t bring himself to eat any of the casseroles prepared by well-wishers, and Yakov’s attempts at making pirozhki or even the sweet syrniki desserts Victor had once loved were all filled too much with memories of his mom. Those were things _she_ made, and no one else’s could ever compare. He’d spent days in his room, not even getting out of bed. He’d cut off his long hair and lost weight. Until finally, Yura went to the store and made some mac ‘n cheese from a box, something their mom had never made for them. It became the only thing Victor would eat. 

This would be the first time he’d eaten it again since he started cooking again. Christophe had outlawed mac ‘n cheese their freshman year once he realized it was Victor’s go-to depression food. Because cooking made Victor feel better, and if he was forced to cook, he was forced not to get into the bad thoughts that he sometimes had. 

He watched Yuuri stir the noodles and kept quiet. If he said something, Yuuri would undoubtedly fix something else, but he didn’t want to bring it up. He was Victor Nikiforov, after all. And Yuuri was a fan. Yuuri wasn’t someone who needed to know about Victor’s issues. So, he watched Yuuri drain the water and melt the butter in with the noodles. “Look all right?” he asked Victor who nodded as Yuuri went to fetch the girls who would do the fun part of the cooking. Victor remembered how much he had loved it when his mom let him add things to her recipes as a kid. It made him feel like she really needed his help, though she easily could have done it herself. 

Yuuri came back, chasing the two girls into the kitchen. “I call milk!” one shouted. Victor thought it was Loop. 

“All right,” Yuuri said. “Ready?” She nodded, and he picked her up. She poured with a determined expression. 

Victor felt a tug on his pants leg and looked down to see the other one looking at his expectantly and holding the packet of cheese. Oh. He tore open the packet for her and picked her up to pour it in. He liked this. He wanted to have little kids to cook with. Though his wouldn’t be so picky, he hoped. 

Yuuri met his eyes for a second and smiled. Victor smiled back as the girls argued over who would stir until Yuuri gave them each a spoon. “Okay,” Yuuri said when the stirring had turned into more of a spoon battle. “I think it’s ready.” He took the spoons from them and set Loop back on the ground. Victor lowered Lutz as well and let Yuuri spoon the mac ‘n cheese into four bowls. 

“Oh,” Victor said. “I don’t need any. I should probably be going anyway.” 

“But we made it for you!” Loop exclaimed. 

“I know, but –“

“Pleeeeease?” Lutz begged, pouting. 

Victor really wished he knew how to say no to little kids. He hesitated. “I-I guess I can stay for a little while.” 

They each grabbed one of his hands with a cheer and led him to the table. Yuuri brought out the food. “Do you want help?” Victor asked, starting to get up, though his captors protested the very idea. 

Yuuri grinned. “I think I can manage.” He brought out cups of water for each of them. 

“I want soda!” Loop said. 

“Yeah,” Lutz agreed. 

“I’m all out,” Yuuri informed them. “Sorry.” 

“But _Yuuri_ ,” they pleaded in unison. 

Yuuri sat in the empty chair. “You’re not going to whine in front of Victor, are you?” he asked them. “Your mom would be really disappointed.” 

They stopped whining at that and dug into their food. Victor stirred his around. “You’re not eating,” Loop said, looking at him with an accusatory frown. 

“I’m not very hungry,” Victor told her. 

“But we made it for you,” Lutz said, her lip quivering. 

Victor hesitated then took a bite. The little girls smiled at him, and he smiled back as he swallowed. It tasted like too many memories he didn’t want to have. 

“So, we have that chemistry quiz coming up,” Yuuri said, and Victor focused on him. “Maybe we could study together?” 

“Yeah,” Victor said. “That’d be fine.” 

“Chemistry’s _booring_ ,” Loop said. “Lutz and Axel and I are going to be in a play!” 

Victor smiled at her. “Really?” he asked. 

The two girls proceeded to give him all the details of the play until finally, Yuuri stood up to take their bowls. Even Victor’s. Because somehow in all of the talking, he’d also managed to eat the entire serving. And it hadn’t tasted bad. In fact, it felt good to have a new, better memory associated with it. And as Yuuri waved to him before shutting the door, Victor knew he had cemented a major crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the pace is definitely going to slow down now, but I hope everyone likes this!


	6. Eat, Drink, and Be Merry

“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” Yuuri found himself saying to Phichit as the other man finished icing a pumpkin log cake.

“What do you mean we shouldn’t go?” Phichit demanded, looking at Yuuri. “It’s Victor’s party. And you’ve spent the last month and a half being annoyingly close to him without even holding hands. This is your chance, Yuuri.” 

“Yeah, well…maybe that’s why we shouldn’t go? I mean, you know how I get when I’m drunk, and right now Victor and I are pretty solid. I don’t want to grind on him when we haven’t even touched and mess everything up. I don’t even think he likes me that way!” 

Phichit crossed his arms. “Here’s a solution. Don’t drink. Be the designated driver.” 

“I don’t have a car.” 

“Victor doesn’t know that.” 

Yuuri hesitated. “Okay, but what about when I get anxious, and there’s a bowl of spiked punch right next to me?” 

“We’re going to the party. I promised Chris.” 

“Since when did he become Chris?” A thought occurred to Yuuri. “You two haven’t…”

Phichit smirked at him. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Yuuri.” 

“You’re terrible,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “When?” 

“Last week. You and Victor were studying for your midterm, so I invited Chris over, and things happened. So now, I’ve promised Chris that I’m going to bring a cake, which means we’re going.” 

“ _Or_ ,” Yuuri said. “You could go. And I could have hives or strep throat or something.” 

“Herpes?” Phichit suggested. 

“I swear, if you tell Victor I have herpes – “

Phichit cut him off with a laugh. “I will if you don’t come! It’ll be fun, Yuuri! We only have to stay for a couple of hours.” 

Yuuri sighed. “All right, but don’t let me do anything stupid.” 

… … … … … … … … … … … … ... … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … 

The party was in full swing when they arrived. Phichit was dressed as the lead from his favorite movie _The King and the Skater_ , and Yuuri wore a tight black outfit with half a skirt and his hair slicked back. He wore contacts instead of his glasses and had no idea what he was dressed as. 

“What am I even supposed to be?” he’d asked Phichit. 

“Hot,” had been Phichit’s only reply. Not having a large variety of costumes at his disposal though, Yuuri had been forced to go along with it. 

So now they were at the party where it looked like Victor had invited half the school. Phichit abandoned Yuuri almost immediately to find Christophe who was dressed in something tight and red that already showed Yuuri more than he wanted to see. He didn’t look long enough to figure out who or what Christophe was supposed to be. Instead, he wandered over to the food tables and helped himself to a plate of chips. He looked at the punch which was undoubtedly spiked and told himself not to touch it. 

“Yuuri?” a voice asked, and Yuuri turned to see Victor coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of seven-layer dip. “Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you,” Victor said, his eyes flicking up and down over Yuuri. 

“It was, uh, Phichit’s idea. I don’t actually know who I’m supposed to be.” 

“Someone attractive, clearly,” Victor said. “Would you like something to drink?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “No, I’m all right.” 

“Okay, well, have fun. I’m the designated driver for the night, so don’t hold back.” 

“You are?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor nodded. “Yeah, don’t want anyone getting hurt leaving my party. I’d feel terrible if that happened.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri nodded. He didn’t say anything else, but Victor was still standing there. Why was he so awkward? 

“Okay,” Victor said. “I’ve got some cookies in the oven, so I’ll see you later.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “See you.” 

He took a shot of punch as soon as Victor disappeared. That felt good. Yuuri ignored the punch bowl then, bypassed the bottles of beer, and found the hard liquor. He hesitated a moment, knowing he would regret this in the morning, then he poured some into a plastic cup and drank until he was sufficiently tipsy enough to make his way onto the dance floor. He stumbled over to where Phichit was and started dirty dancing with him. 

“Yuuri are you drunk already?” Phichit shouted over the music. 

“No!” Yuuri laughed. “I’m having fun!” Yuuri thought he heard Phichit sigh, and that was very rude. “Dance with me!” he commanded, gripping Phichit’s hips and dancing the way he wanted to with Victor. 

Phichit left him after a while, but there were still plenty of people to dance with, and Yuuri was having fun. And it wasn’t like he was doing it with Victor. So, he wouldn’t be _that_ humiliated in the morning. 

The music was loud and filled everything around Yuuri with color and life. Someone passed him another drink, and he gulped it down, needing to stay in the zone. Suddenly, people were leaving the dance floor and yelling something. Yuuri stopped dancing and tried to figure it out. Police, he grasped finally. What about the police? 

Someone grabbed Yuuri’s arm and pulled him away from the center of the room. Yuuri found himself by the snacks again. There were a lot fewer people here now. Maybe Victor would want to dance. Yuuri wandered into the kitchen. “Victor!” he exclaimed. 

“Police, open up!” someone called from the distance. 

Victor looked at Yuuri who had mentioned before that he wasn’t yet of age to drink in the states. Yuuri only smiled at him. 

Victor’s eyes went wide. “Get in the pantry,” he told Yuuri, and Yuuri obediently stumbled inside, wondering if this was going to be like one of those kid games where you kiss each other in the closet. That would be nice. He hoped Victor would kiss him. 

He could hear Victor talking to the police in the other room, and he wished they would stop taking his Victor from him. It was so rude. After a few minutes, Victor returned and handed Yuuri a glass of water. 

Yuuri grinned at Victor. “I love you,” he announced with a heavy slur. 

“That’s sweet, Yuuri. You want to come out of the closet now?” 

At this phrasing, Yuuri laughed. He lurched unsteadily outwards and spread his arms wide, flinging the water in his glass across the kitchen. “I’m gay, Victor!” 

“Okay, Yuuri, good for you. Do you want some more water?” 

“Noooo,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “I wanna dance. Come dance with me, Victor!” 

“Yuuri, the party’s over. Everyone’s leaving. I think I should drive you and Phichit home.” 

Yuuri whined at that and stumbled out of the kitchen. Victor followed, confused about where this was going exactly, but Yuuri only sank into a chair. “I’m staying,” he announced. “Until you dance with me.” 

“I’m going to find Phichit,” Victor said. 

Yuuri watched with mild curiosity as Victor searched through the rapidly emptying apartment, looking everywhere except the room with a sock on the door. Yuuri heard barking from one of the rooms. Was that Victor’s dog? He wanted to meet the dog. It was probably the best dog in the world except for Vicchan. Finally, Victor came back to Yuuri who smiled up at him. “Okay, you have a key to your apartment, right?” 

Yuuri nodded. 

“All right. Let’s go. I’ll take you back.” 

“Nooo,” Yuuri whined. 

“Yuuri, you can’t stay the night. Phichit’s probably back at your place wondering where you are.” 

“’S fine,” Yuuri slurred. “I wanna stay with you. Wanna dance.” 

Victor sighed and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it in what Yuuri thought was a very nice way. “I’ll dance with you another time, Yuuri. But you really need to go home.” 

Oh. Victor didn’t like him. That was it. Tears leaked out of Yuuri’s eyes. 

“Yuuri? What’s wrong?” Victor asked. 

“You don’t like me!” Yuuri wailed. 

“Of course I like you, Yuuri. But you’re very drunk right now.” 

“No, I’m not,” Yuuri insisted. He stood a little shakily. “Watch me.” 

“Yuuri, I don’t think –“

Before Victor could finish the sentence, Yuuri bent over attempting a handstand. Instead, as he started to lift his feet off the ground, he collapsed on his face with a groan. Victor rushed over, but Yuuri had already rolled onto his back and was laughing uncontrollably. “Let’s go to the car, Yuuri,” Victor suggested again. 

Yuuri realized suddenly that this meant he would get to ride in Victor’s car. And Victor, he was sure, had a very nice car, because it would be Victor’s car, and everything about Victor was nice. He swayed a little as he stood. 

“Do you need some help?” Victor asked. 

“’M fine,” Yuuri said, waving him off. “Not drunk.” 

“If you say so,” Victor said, directing Yuuri out of the apartment and into the elevator. Yuuri liked that Victor kept looking at him. And then they reached his car. Yuuri knew nothing about cars, but this one was red. It was red, and it was Victor’s, and it was the best car in the world. 

“Wow,” Yuuri breathed as Victor opened the passenger door for him. He touched the little figurine on the dashboard of a dog in a hula skirt and stared in awe as the little figure swayed back and forth. “Wow,” he said again. 

Victor sat in the driver’s seat and turned the car on. “Yuuri, seatbelt,” he reminded, and Yuuri pulled the belt though he kept missing the other end no matter how many times he tried. 

“It’s broken,” he announced. 

Victor fastened it for him. 

“Wow,” Yuuri said because Victor was incredible. Victor let the radio play softly as they drove across town. The streetlights were really pretty like tiny little suns, and he and Victor were the only ones driving. It felt like a date somewhere in outer space. Yuuri wanted to share this revelation with Victor. “Victor,” he said and pointed at the lights. “They’re little suns,” he said. 

Victor looked at him, his brow wrinkled, but Yuuri was sure he would understand if he really thought about it. Yuuri went back to looking at the lights. “Wow,” Yuuri murmured, and Victor smiled, which meant he understood. 

They reached Yuuri’s building much too soon. “I’ll walk you up,” Victor said, exiting the car. Yuuri somehow managed to unbuckle himself _and_ open his door. He tried a few times to get the key in the lock, but that just wasn’t happening. Victor took the keys from him, and their hands brushed against each other. 

Victor remembered the way to Yuuri’s apartment, which was good because Yuuri wasn’t sure he did. Once they reached the door, Victor opened it as well and gave Yuuri back his keys, letting his palm linger over Yuuri’s for a bit longer. 

“Yuuri,” Victor started, “I…”

Yuuri waited expectantly for the rest of the sentence. 

Then Victor drew his hand back. “I’ll see you in class,” he said and walked away. 

Yuuri’s heart sank. Of course Victor wasn’t going to say he loved him. Victor was Victor, and Yuuri was…just Yuuri. He stepped into the apartment and raided the cabinets for something else to drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little shorter than I planned, but I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and I hope everyone is enjoying reading it!


	7. Food For Thought

Never in Victor’s school career had he ever gotten to class more than three minutes early, so he was sure it was a blatantly obvious sign of how big a crush he had on Yuuri that he arrived to chemistry nearly twenty minutes early the Monday after Halloween. Another class was still in the room, and Victor was forced to wait outside, running his hand through his hair periodically so that it lacked the smooth look he usually sported.

It was fine, he told himself. Nothing had changed between him and Yuuri. No matter what Victor had almost said. And how disappointed Yuuri had looked. But Yuuri was with Phichit, so Victor needed to apologize. He didn’t want to break them up. He just wanted to be friends with Yuuri and move past this crush, so they could be just friends. Because being friends with Yuuri was still a million times better than not having Yuuri in his life at all. The times they spent cooking together made Victor happier than anything. But he still had to be careful not to let Yuuri get too close. If Victor said how he felt, that would ruin it all. 

Ten minutes before class started, Yuuri appeared. “Yuuri!” Victor said, waving. Yuuri flinched at the sudden shout, and more than a few people turned to look as Victor ran over to him. “How was your weekend?” he asked. 

“Um, good?” Yuuri said. 

Victor lowered his voice a little. “Listen, about the party –“

“Shit, sorry,” Yuuri said, pressing a hand over his face. “I say a lot of stuff I don’t mean when I get drunk. I almost wish I didn’t remember it.” 

Victor blinked. Why was Yuuri sorry? He hadn’t done any – oh. _I love you_. Of course. Of course Yuuri hadn’t meant that. He was drunk. Victor knew that. He knew Yuuri didn’t really love him, but he wished Yuuri hadn’t felt the need to apologize for it. Because now it was even clearer that Victor’s crush was completely one-sided. 

“We should go in,” Yuuri said, interrupting Victor’s thoughts. 

“Right,” Victor said and followed Yuuri into the class. They still had a few minutes before it started though. “So, for cooking. I was thinking maybe you could come over this weekend if you’re not busy.” 

Yuuri hesitated. “Actually, Phichit and I have plans. He’s taking the weekend off from his internship.” 

“Oh,” Victor said. “Well, maybe next weekend?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “Maybe.” 

But they didn’t meet the next weekend or the one following. And at the club meetings, Yuuri seemed to avoid him almost. He stayed next to Phichit, talking quietly in corners where no one could hear him. Or, worse, he would talk to Christophe or Mila or one of the others, but whenever Victor came by, Yuuri found an excuse to leave. Was it because Victor hadn’t let him stay over after Halloween? That had been selfish maybe, but he didn’t trust himself not to confess if they were together too long. It was hard not to blurt out the truth whenever he saw Yuuri. Even if he only glimpsed Yuuri through a window of a café. 

They didn’t study together either. Yuuri didn’t really seem to need it. On their previous sessions, he had explained as much to Victor as Victor had explained to him. Victor couldn’t fathom why Yuuri had been so worried about it that first day. But the larger issue was that it had now been almost a month since he’d spent time with Yuuri, and he was growing desperate. He’d spent more than a few nights awake until six am cooking, and he knew it was worrying Chris. 

Now as Victor finished his fifth tray of macaroons, Chris entered the kitchen. “This is a problem, Victor.” 

“I know.” He looked at the sixty cookies he’d made, each one as perfect as if it had come directly from a French patisserie. “Do you want a dozen of these? I think I can give two batches to Yakov and Yuri. And maybe Georgi would want some. I think he broke up with Anya again, and –“

“Victor,” Chris said, coming forward and selecting one of the lavender ones. “Why don’t you take some to Yuuri and tell him you’re on the brink of insanity?” 

Victor shook his head. “He’s avoiding me. I don’t know why.” 

“Well, there’s an obvious solution,” Chris said. He moved the macaroons and jumped up to sit on the counter. “We make it very clear that Yuuri has no plans, so he’s forced to spend an hour with you at which point you find out why he’s avoiding you and fix it.” 

Victor considered it. “And how do we do that?” 

Chris shrugged. “The last meeting before Thanksgiving is this Friday. I happen to know Yuuri and Phichit are both staying in town for the week, so I’ll corner them and invite Phichit to show me his hamsters say on Monday. Then you come over, and I conveniently realize that neither of you has plans and you’re forced to meet up.” 

“Why would Phichit show you his hamsters?” Victor asked. 

Chris smirked. 

“That’s not an innuendo!” Victor exclaimed. 

“Anything can be an innuendo if I want it to be,” Chris replied. “But he has pet hamsters, and he can talk about them for hours. Trust me, it’s a fool-proof plan.” 

… … … … … … … … … … … … ... … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … 

Victor had a few doubts about how fool-proof the plan actually was, but on Friday afternoon, he carried on half a conversation with Georgi about Anya while watching from the corner of his eye as Chris made his way to Yuuri and Phichit. After a few moments, Chris turned just a little to catch Victor’s eyes. “Excuse me,” Victor said to Georgi, and he walked over to Chris. “How are things going over here?” he smiled at Yuuri. 

Yuuri didn’t meet his eyes. “I need to go to the bathr-“

“Wait, Yuuri, this is perfect!” Phichit exclaimed, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Victor, you’re not busy Monday, right?” 

“No, not at all,” Victor said, trying to act surprised, though he was startled that Phichit was helping so casually. It was almost like he was part of the plan. 

“See, Yuuri, you and Victor can hang out and cook something while Chris is over at our place.” 

Yuuri hesitated, looking at Victor then away. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to impose or –“

“You wouldn’t be!” Victor said quickly. Chris elbowed him discreetly. “I mean, I want to make a practice dinner for Thursday, so you could help me with that. Especially if Chris is gone. It would be really good to have you.” 

Yuuri still hesitated. “He’ll do it,” Phichit volunteered. “What time?” 

While Yuuri excused himself again to go to the bathroom, Victor, Phichit, and Chris finalized their plans. Though Victor was still a little worried that Yuuri would cancel at the last minute. 

Sunday night, Victor took some sleeping medication, so he wouldn’t be exhausted from staying up all night wondering if Yuuri would cancel. He woke up to his alarm at nine a.m., took half an hour to dress up in something casual but not too casual that was also still attractive (ultimately dark-wash jeans, and a 3/4 sleeve grey shirt that clung to his chest). At ten, he drove Chris to Yuuri’s and Phichit’s apartment. The two men met them outside, and Yuuri nervously got into Victor’s car as Chris went inside with Phichit. 

Suddenly, Victor was nervous. Clearly something last time had gone wrong, and he didn’t want to make the same mistake again without even knowing what it had been. “So,” he said to Yuuri. 

“So,” Yuuri replied. 

They sat in silence for a long awkward moment. 

“Um, are you going to drive?” Yuuri asked finally. 

“Oh, right,” Victor said. He shifted into drive and pulled into traffic. “You can change the music if you want,” he said. It was set to a classical station by default. 

“It’s fine,” Yuuri said. 

“Okay.” The awkward silence lasted for the entire drive. Victor let Yuuri into the apartment where they went immediately to the kitchen. “Do you want a snack? I made some snickerdoodles a yesterday.” 

Yuuri nodded and took one of the offered cookies. “So, what are we making?” 

“I was thinking some stuffing, mashed potatoes, and maybe a pie to start, and we can do more later if we want to.” 

“I think that’s a good start,” Yuuri grinned. “I guess you like Thanksgiving?” 

Victor nodded. “It’s a whole holiday about food. My mom’s favorite thing about America.” He cringed inwardly. Why had he brought up his mom? What if Yuuri asked about her? He didn’t want to talk about sad things when Yuuri was finally with him again. Yuuri whom he could not and should not want to date. Even if Yuuri wasn’t already with Phichit, it would be weird to date a fan, right? Yuuri wouldn’t see Victor as anything more than his image, and really that was probably a good thing. 

Yuuri didn’t ask about his mom. He just started peeling the potatoes. Victor joined him. “When I first came to the states, Thanksgiving was the worst part of the year. Everyone was talking about going home and spending time with family, and I was just here. I think that’s when Phichit and I really started to get close, since he didn’t go home either.” 

Victor wasn’t sure if talking about Phichit was better or worse than talking about his mom. “So, you two have been together since then?” he asked anyway. He hoped his tone wasn’t too stiff. 

“Well, we were roommates anyway, but that’s when we became friends, yeah.” Victor nodded. “When did you start dating then?” 

Yuuri stopped peeling his potato and looked at Victor with a bemused expression. “I’m not dating Phichit!” he laughed. “Is that what you thought? He and Christophe have been together for over a month now!” 

“He…what?” Victor said, trying to process the information. Yuuri wasn’t dating Phichit. Yuuri was single. Yuuri was single and less than a foot away from Victor. Victor wasn’t sure he’d ever in his life received news that was simultaneously so good and so bad. Because he couldn’t date Yuuri. Yuuri didn’t like him. Right? 

Once Yuuri had recovered from his laughter, Victor wet his lips. “So, I wanted to ask you, did I do something to upset you at the party?” 

“What? No, of course not!” Yuuri exclaimed. 

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” 

Yuuri paused, and Victor waited for whatever his next words would reveal. “I thought, I mean, I was really drunk, and I said some awkward things, and I just thought it was best if I didn’t…you know.” 

Victor wasn’t sure he did know. It almost sounded like Yuuri was saying that he’d meant some of what he’d said that night. But that couldn’t be right. Victor shrugged. “You were drunk. It’s understandable.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, laughing a little. “I do tend to overindulge. I don’t know how you stay so thin when you cook so much.” 

Victor smiled thinly. “Metabolism. But you don’t look bad.” 

“No?” Yuuri asked. 

Of course not. He was hot. But Victor didn’t say that. He just shook his head. “You’re cute. Like a little piggy.” 

Yuuri flushed but the conversation became easier then as they cooked their small feast. Finally, in the early afternoon when the meal was ready, they sat down to eat. “Yuuri?” Victor said, gathering his courage. 

“Yeah?” Yuuri asked, looking up from the pie he was digging into. 

“I was wondering what you wanted me to be to you. We’ve been hanging out for a while.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Victor shrugged. He wasn’t really sure what he meant. “Like a brother or a father figure?” He paused, “A lover?” 

Yuuri blanched. “No! No, not that!” 

Well, that was hurtful. Victor wished he hadn’t asked the question now. It had been stupid anyway. 

“I mean,” Yuuri said now, “I don’t want you to be anything. I-I just want you to be you.” 

Oh. Victor smiled. 

“And, I’d really like to keep doing this with you,” Yuuri went on. “The cooking and the studying. It’s nice.” 

“Yeah,” Victor agreed. “It is.” 

Yuuri smiled at him, and Victor was certain that it was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. Too soon, they had to do the dishes, and then Victor would drive Yuuri home and pick up Chris. He understood now how Chis had known Phichit would let him come over. 

He and Yuuri talked still in the car, because it turned out they both liked the Italian operas Victor played from his phone. Especially “Stamni Vicino,” which was a favorite of Victor’s, for reasons he didn’t particularly want to share. It would be too much to confess to Yuuri how much he wanted someone to stay with him. And how much he now wanted that person to be Yuuri. 

“Well, we’re here,” Yuuri said with a note of sadness in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Victor said. Neither of them moved to get out of the car. “Oh!” Victor said. “I have the pie for you.” He leaned into the backseat and suddenly felt a touch on the crown of his head where he knew his hair was thinning. 

He sat up slowly and looked at Yuuri who was flushed bright red. Victor laughed and touched his head. “is it that bad?” he asked. 

“I’m so sorry!” Yuuri exclaimed. He took the pie from Victor and ran out of the car. 

“Wait, YuurI!” Victor exclaimed, yelling through the window. “We’re still on for next week, right?”

“Yes!” Yuuri called back, and that was all Victor needed to hear.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick little chapter before I go to class. Hope you all enjoy, I love getting comments and kudos!


	8. Pie in the Sky

Yuuri was spending a lot of time at Victor’s apartment as finals approached. He told himself it was because of Victor’s constant snack supply, but he knew it was that his crush had not gone away and had really only gotten bigger as he spent more and more time with Victor.

“ _Yuuri,_ ” Victor said now, elongating the u in his name. “I can’t figure this one out.” 

They were lounging on the floor by Victor’s coffee table as they worked through some practice tests. Makkachin lay under the table asleep and very adorable. Yuuri looked over at Victor’s page. “Oh, that one’s easy,” Yuuri said. “It’s just like problem two.” 

Victor looked at the page for a moment. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Show me?” 

With a smile, Yuuri shifted a little closer to Victor and explained how to work at the problem. “Make sense?” he asked, realizing as he looked at Victor that they were actually probably as close as they could be without touching. 

“Yeah,” Victor said. “I just want to look at your page to check though,” he said, and reached an arm around Yuuri to pull the other paper closer. Yuuri flushed a little at the touch, even though Victor was definitely _not_ doing it to hug Yuuri. He was just in the way. “Oooh, lovebirds!” Chris said, exiting the kitchen with a plate of cookies. 

Victor withdrew his arm immediately, and even though Yuuri understood it, he was still disappointed. “Don’t you have a final to take?” he called to his roommate. 

“Not for two more hours. Don’t let me interrupt your love-making though.” 

Victor threw an eraser at him, which only made the other man laugh as he took his snacks back to his room. “Don’t worry about him,” Victor told Yuuri. “He’s just Chris.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri nodded. “Of course.” He shifted back to his earlier position though to keep working on the practice questions, most of which were just about material they had covered though a few required some math. The class really hadn’t been that hard, and Yuuri was honestly surprised Victor kept insisting on these studying/tutoring sessions. 

“Hey, Yuuri,” Victor said, “why do chemists like nitrates so much?” 

Yuuri looked at the other man’s smile. “Um, I don’t know, I mean, I guess they’re pretty useful in medications and stuff.” 

“Wrong,” Victor grinned. “It’s because they’re cheaper than dayrates!” 

Yuuri laughed in surprise. “That was so dumb!” 

“I bet you can’t do better,” Victor dared. 

He’d take that bet. Yuuri thought for a moment. “Okay, have you heard about the chemist who was reading a book about helium? He couldn’t put it down.” 

Victor grinned his heart-shaped smile that made Yuuri melt. “So in class the other day, I asked some guy if he had any sodium hypobromite…he said NaBro.” 

So this was going to be a challenge then. “All right,” Yuuri said, setting down his pencil. “Two chemists walk into a bar. The first one said, ‘I’ll have H2O.’ The second one said, ‘I’ll have H2O too.’ And he died.” 

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed. “That’s terrible!” 

“Does that mean you can’t top it?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor thought for a second. “Why was the mole of oxygen molecules excited when he left the singles bar?” 

“Why?” Yuuri asked, already guessing the answer. 

“He got Avogadro’s number.” 

Yuuri laughed and told another joke. It went on until they were both on their phones looking up more to read aloud until Chris had left for his final and their own practice papers were completely forgotten. Makkachin woke from her nap at some point and settled across Yuuri’s lap, which made Yuuri grin as he petted her and continued telling terrible jokes. 

Eventually though, the websites started to run out of jokes, and Victor looked at the time. “Maybe we should take a snack break before we finish these,” he suggested. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri nodded. 

“Makka,” Victor called, and Makkachin rose to follow him into the kitchen where he gave her some of his homemade dog treats and started on the chocolate. 

Yuuri had now had Victor’s signature hot chocolate several times and could recreate from memory, but nothing quite matched watching Victor prepare it simply because it was Victor preparing it. He always added a candy cane to the drink, for flair, he said, but also for a special taste. Yuuri sipped at the delicious drink and sat at Victor’s table. “So,” he said, “how’s your schedule for next semester?” 

“Pretty nice,” Victor said. “Restaurant management, a couple of wine classes, and my last gen-ed that I’ve been putting off.” 

“Which is?” Yuuri prompted. 

“I don’t remember. Something like Romantic Literature or Feminist Literature. Mila took it and said it was good, so I figured why not? Anyway, what about you?” 

“Well, mostly I’m doing my student teaching, and then I have a class on childhood development to stay enrolled full-time.” 

Victor nodded. “What age kids do you want to teach?” 

“I’m not sure,” Yuuri said. “I think elementary since I really like Yuuko’s girls, and little kids are just a lot of fun, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Victor said a little wistfully. “I want kids. Not now, but, you know, in the future.” 

“Me too,” Yuuri said. And then he wondered if it sounded like he was inserting himself into Victor’s little fantasy. Did it sound like Yuuri wanted kids with Victor? What if Victor thought he was flirting or something and made Yuuri leave early? 

But Victor didn’t seem to notice. “Hey, we should watch a Christmas movie!” he exclaimed suddenly. “We know the chemistry stuff, and who knows how often I’m going to see you next semester? We should make the most of this.” 

That was a worry that hadn’t occurred to Yuuri yet and he wished that it still hadn’t. “Yeah,” he said though. “We should.” 

He let Victor pick the movie and then didn’t watch any of it. Partly because he was watching Victor watch it, and partly because all he could think about was not seeing Victor every other day and how much he really, _really_ wanted to be around Victor even if only until Victor graduated and inevitably left and forgot Yuuri completely. 

Yuuri was lost in thought until the apartment door slammed shut. “It’s freezing out there,” Chris announced. “Vitya, I need chocolate.” 

Victor had Makkachin sprawled across his lap, and he turned to look at Chris. “You want me to disturb the most beautiful dog in the world just to make you some chocolate?” he asked in horror. 

Yuuri grinned, loving Victor’s drama. 

“Fine, I’ll make it,” Chris said. “But you wouldn’t do this if Yuuri weren’t here.” 

Victor ignored him even as Chris joined them to watch the movie. It finished too quickly, and Yuuri knew he had to leave. “I should probably be getting back.” 

“Oh,” Victor said. He looked disappointed almost, but Yuuri had to be imagining that. “I mean, yeah, it’s getting late.” 

“You may want to reconsider,” Chris said, gesturing to the television where he had turned on the news. The weather station was predicting a huge snowfall in addition to what was already falling outside. “Are you sure you want to drive in that, Victor?” 

Victor hesitated. “Well, Yuuri needs to get home…” 

“I don’t want to make you do something risky,” Yuuri interjected. “I can take an Uber.” “No, Yuuri, I’ll drive you,” Victor assured him. 

Chris laughed. “You’re both overlooking the most reasonable scenario.” They looked at him, and Chris grinned. “Yuuri can spend the night.” 

Yuuri’s eyes went wide. “I don’t want to impose,” he started quickly, but Victor was already nodding. 

“That’s a great idea! Yuuri, you can stay in my room! My bed’s big enough for both of us!” 

“No, no,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “I-I mean, if I do stay, I’d sleep on the couch or something.” 

“Well, you’re definitely staying,” Chris said. “Victor couldn’t live with himself if he let you go out in this weather.” 

Victor shot Chris a look, and Yuuri wished Chris wouldn’t try to make a relationship between them when Victor was clearly not interested. “I-I guess I’ll call Phichit then,” he said. 

… … … … … … … … … … … … ... … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … 

It was after midnight before Yuuri and Victor stopped the Christmas movie marathon they’d started that afternoon. “We should probably go to sleep,” Victor said reluctantly. “Yeah,” Yuuri agreed, but he didn’t move from his spot on the couch. He was less than a foot away from Victor as he had been for the last two hours because Victor said Yuuri looked cold and offered to share his blanket. Yuuri wasn’t about to refuse an offer like that, even if Victor was just doing it to be nice. 

“Are you sure you want to sleep on the couch?” Victor asked. “I’ve got a queen-size bed, so there’s room. It doesn’t have to be weird or anything.” 

Yuuri flushed. “I’m fine on the couch,” he assured Victor. 

“Okay,” Victor said. He lingered a moment more before standing up. “Well, I’ll, um, I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Okay,” Yuuri said, repeating him. 

Victor hesitated. “We’re going to hang out next semester, right?” he asked. “You’re not just going to disappear?” 

“No,” Yuuri promised. 

Victor nodded then, almost as an afterthought, he leaned in to brush a strand of hair out of Yuuri’s eyes. Yuuri caught his breath at the soft touch of Victor’s fingers. But then Victor stepped away. “Good night, Yuuri.” 

“Good night, Victor,” Yuuri replied. 

But even after Victor had gone into his room and turned off the light, Yuuri couldn’t sleep. He browsed social media on his phone until he had a sudden, crazy thought and opened the school’s catalogue page. He searched through the gen ed listings until he found what he was pretty sure was Victor’s class. It fit his schedule. And it would only put him at sixteen units. And it was a gen ed, nothing too difficult. Before rational thought could intervene, Yuuri registered for the class. And he still had all of winter break to reconsider. He could drop it before Victor ever knew he’d made such a stupid decision. This meant nothing. Right. Yuuri hoped he could convince himself of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, i finally got productive with my schoolwork, so updates aren't going to be quite so often now, but I do have enough free time that I intend to finish this in the coming weeks. I'm loving this story and I hope everyone else is too!


	9. Chestnuts Roasting

Victor wished Yuuri would update his social media. His most recent Instagram post was four months old, and Victor could only stare at it for so long without feeling pathetic. He really needed to take his mind off this. Maybe he could do some last-minute shopping. He could get Yuuri a present! Maybe a new tie…

“Yura,” Victor announced. “I’m going shopping. Are you coming?” 

“Why are you going shopping on Christmas Eve?” Yuri asked, looking over at Victor from where he was watching TV. “Everywhere’s going to be crowded.” 

Victor shrugged. “All right. If you don’t go, I can eat all the chestnuts myself.” 

Yuri fumed about this for a moment then grabbed his jacket. “You’re buying,” he said. 

“Naturally.” Victor put on his own jacket and coat and told Yakov where they were going. 

Outside, the snow covered the ground and blew through the air. Victor loved it. It had always been his favorite activity as a child to go out and play in the snow for hours, to ice skate at the local rink, and eat all the winter treats. He drove downtown with Yuri and parked in a snow-covered lot. There were lots of stores here, but more importantly, colorful lights lined the streets and somewhere music was playing. Victor took it all in but was forced to actually enter a store when Yuri complained that he was standing around too much. 

It was hard to pick out a tie for Yuuri. They were all better than the one he had, but Victor couldn’t decide which one would suit him best. And he didn’t want to get something _too_ nice and make Yuri think he liked him as more than a friend. He didn’t want to mess up what they had, after all. Finally, he decided on a nice navy blue that he thought Yuuri would like. Beside him Yuri griped about how long Victor had taken to choose the simplest tie in the store. Victor ignored him. He paid for the tie and took it in the stylish little bag. 

“Can we get some food now?” Yuri insisted. 

“Right, of course,” Victor said. 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” 

Victor hesitated. “No.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Get it together, old man. Why are you so obsessed with this guy?” 

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Yura,” Victor answered. 

“Whatever. Just buy me some food.” 

Victor grinned as they exited the store. There was a vendor not far down the street selling roasted chestnuts. Victor could smell them long before they reached the stand, and they were heavenly. Yuri practically ran over to place their order. Victor followed at a more leisurely pace, still enjoying the lights and the snow, even with all the people. 

“Victor?” 

At the sound of his name, Victor looked over at the person who had bought chestnuts just before he and Yuri. His face lit up. “Yuuri!” he exclaimed. “Hi!” 

Yuuri grinned. “Hi, Victor.” He paused. “So, um, chestnuts?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Victor said. “They’re a tradition.” 

Just then, Yuri elbowed him. “You need to pay for your tradition, old man. Is this that guy you’ve been –“

Victor laughed to cut Yuri off. He thrust some money at the man selling chestnuts and gave some to Yuri. “Yeah, okay, that was fun. Why don’t you eat those?” 

Yuri rolled his eyes but didn’t waste any time devouring the snack. Victor turned back to Yuuri. “So…what are you doing here? You didn’t go home?” 

“No,” Yuuri shook his head. “Japan’s a bit far, and it costs a lot.” 

“Oh,” Victor said. “So just spending the holidays with friends then? Did Phichit stay too? He’s from Thailand, right?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, “but he actually has family in California. I didn’t want to impose, so I figured I’d just take the time to get ahead for next semester, you know?” 

Victor blinked. “You’re all alone?” 

“Well, I’m taking care of Phichit’s hamsters, and there’s always Skype, so –“

“Yuuri, you have to come over!” Victor exclaimed. 

“Wh-what?” 

Victor grinned, liking the idea even more now. “You can come over to our house. It’ll be great! We can watch movies and drink hot chocolate and we’ll have a big breakfast in the morning! Oh! And I can give you your present!” 

Yuuri stared for a few moments, speechless. “Victor, I-I can’t just stay with you like that. I…it’s your family. I wouldn’t want to be a burden or –“

“You wouldn’t be!” Victor insisted. “We’d love to have you!” 

He hesitated still. “But I…I mean…well, I don’t have a present for _you._ I’d feel bad.” 

Victor shrugged. “So bake some cookies. Please, Yuuri?” Victor could see the internal debate raging in Yuuri’s mind. He really hoped Yuuri would say yes. It would be so amazing, and he hated to think of Yuuri all by himself. 

“Well, I-I guess it can’t hurt that much,” Yuuri conceded finally. 

Victor was sure at that moment that he was the happiest man in the world. “Great! My car’s parked nearby! Do you want to grab anything from your place?” 

“Yeah, that-that would probably be good,” Yuuri agreed, nodding repeatedly. 

“Yura!” Victor called. “We need to go. We’re taking Yuuri back to his apartment before he comes over.” 

The younger Yuri stalked over to him. “His name is Yuri too?” Yuri glared at Yuuri. “We can’t have two Yuris in the same place. It’ll be confusing.” 

“Oh, well, I don’t have to –“

“Nonsense!” Victor cut in. “Yura, you’ll just have to be Yurio from now on.” 

“WHAT?” 

Victor smiled at Yuuri. “Let’s go, shall we?” 

… … … … … … … … … … … … ... … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … 

Yuuri was helping him cook Christmas Eve dinner. Victor was in heaven. Sure, Christmas wasn’t a big holiday in Russia, but the longer Victor spent with Yuuri the more he loved what was definitely the most wonderful time of the year. Although, he was reasonably certain that any time with Yuuri would be the most wonderful. Was it possible to have that many most wonderfuls? Well, if not Yuuri made it possible. 

“Um, Victor?” Yuuri asked, and Victor looked at him. “I think the stuffing is good.” 

“Huh?” Victor asked. He looked down at the bowl of stuffing ingredients that he had been stirring for who knew how long. Yep, it was definitely good now. “Oh, I just like to stir a little extra, you know?” Victor smiled. Yuuri smiled back, a little confused maybe but fortunately not saying anything about it as Victor dumped the mixture into a baking dish and added the broth. “Your pie looks great.” 

“Thanks,” Yuuri said, averting his eyes to layer more strips of dough over the apples. The strips folded over and under each other to make a very elegant design on top of the pie. If Victor were making it, he would have cut out small pieces of the dough into leaves and flowers and braided the longer strips to make it, in Yura’s words, extra as fuck. He liked Yuuri’s though. It was beautiful but refined, not over the top, boasting about itself. Kind of like Yuuri. Victor smiled at that. 

He wanted to lean over and kiss Yuuri’s cheek, wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist and steal a bit of the pie filling. They were so close. It would be so easy. Victor had to force himself to look away from Yuuri long enough to put his stuffing in the oven. Yuuri added his pie to bake and set an alarm on his phone. And that was in. Dinner would be ready in about half an hour. 

“So, do you want to hang out in my room?” Victor asked. 

“Yeah, sure,” Yuuri nodded. 

Victor considered taking Yuuri by the hand to show him his bedroom, but that would probably be too much. He was already going insane with the idea of Yuuri in his bedroom, even if nothing was going to happen. Obviously. Yuuri was a friend. A single friend, but still…at least he’d cleaned his room recently. 

“This is it,” Victor said, turning on the light. Compared to the room at his apartment, this was rather spare – mostly a guest room at this point. There was a bookshelf with a few novels left over from his younger days and a poster so the room didn’t feel _too_ empty. 

“It’s nice,” Yuuri said, agreeable as ever. 

Victor grinned at him. “I moved most of my stuff to the apartment. I don’t really live here anymore except for a couple weeks a year.” 

“Oh,” Yuuri laughed. “Good. This is kind of depressing.” 

“Do your parents keep everything the way you left it then?” Victor asked, sitting on the bed. 

Yuuri nodded and sat with him. Not as close as Victor would like, but it was still Yuuri sitting on his bed, and that was nice. “I haven’t been back since I left for school, but I think it helps my mom when she misses me.” 

“Are you close with her?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. He looked at Victor like he wanted to ask something, and Victor knew he was going to ask about Victor’s parents. Victor swallowed, bracing himself for the question, but then Yuuri looked away. “So, your brother. He’s, uh, boisterous.” 

It took Victor a moment to respond. Why hadn’t Yuuri asked? He had to wonder about it. Funny that the fact he hadn’t asked almost made Victor want to tell him. “Yeah,” he said though. “That’s one word to describe him. Although, he prefers punk.” 

Yuuri laughed at that, and Victor smiled. He loved Yuuri’s laugh. And Yuuri’s smile. And the way his eyes shone when he was happy. He loved the way Yuuri would suck his lips in before he spoke when he was anxious. He loved how Yuuri looked when he was cooking, completely caught up in the process with a proud little smile whenever something turned out right. It was always gone too quickly, but he liked seeing that confidence. If Yuuri were ever so openly confident in himself, Victor would lose it for sure. He imagined for a moment, Yuuri kissing him, meeting Victor’s eyes and letting him know exactly what he wanted. 

Not that that would happen. Victor really shouldn’t daydream about it. Especially not with Yuuri right there. In his room. With snow falling outside and a pie baking in the oven, filling the house with a delicious sugary aroma. “Yuuri,” Victor started. “Do you…”

“Do I what?” Yuuri asked, looking at Victor with those beautiful brown eyes. 

Victor cleared his throat. “Um, do you know your final grade for the class? I just haven’t gotten mine, and I was wondering if you had. 

“Oh,” Yuuri said. Was he disappointed? No, Victor was fantasizing. “Yeah, it showed up a few days ago. You might want to email the professor, although I’m sure you aced it.” 

“Right,” Victor said. Because he was Victor Nikiforov. He probably could have skipped over half the class and only gotten marked down for attendance. He probably would have done that if it weren’t for seeing Yuuri. To be frank, Victor wasn’t sure how he would ever get through another semester without seeing Yuuri every other day. At this point, Yuuri was like air for how much Victor needed him. Or like a drug Victor couldn’t get enough of. He was everything. Victor just didn’t know how to tell him that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a long month, and I really did mean to write this sooner lol. I also have midterms this week, and I'm traveling next week, so there's going to be a delay before the next chapter too (I think it will be a bit longer though). I'm so glad people are reading and enjoying this though! Thanks for all the support!
> 
> In other news, I decided to try roasting chestnuts on my own in the oven and...the one I didn't burn was pretty good. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	10. A Turkey and Some Mistletoe Will Help to Make the Season Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how to tag this, but there's some sad stuff in this chapter, so be warned

Yuuri woke up suddenly on Christmas morning with his palms sweaty and his heart beating quickly. He took a shaky breath. Where even was he? Not his apartment, for sure. Victor. Christmas Eve. Oh God. He was freaking out. And the thought of Victor was just making things worse. He needed fresh air. Yuuri threw off the blankets, grabbed his glasses, and made his way out of the unfamiliar house. He flung open the door and sat on the steps of the porch, panting as he tried to get himself under control.

“Yuuri?”

He squeaked and turned. Victor was sitting on the porch swing with a mug of something warm in his hands. “Victor,” he said with a too-bright smile. “Hi!” That was awful. Yuuri lowered his head, pressing his forehead against his knees and taking staccato breaths as he tried to calm down. 

Someone warm sat next to him. “Can I do anything, Yuuri?”

Yuuri shook his head. He didn’t want Victor to see him like this at all.

“Here, have some of this.” Victor pressed the mug into Yuuri’s hands, and Yuuri dutifully sipped at the hot chocolate. Victor sat with him in silence until Yuuri managed to calm down.

He passed back the cooling mug of chocolate. “Thanks. And…sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Victor said. “Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri nodded. “Sometimes I just…freak out for no reason.” Yuuri looked at Victor then. “What were you doing out here? What time is it?”

Victor glanced at his watch. “It’s about six. I think I came out here at five.” He was quiet for a long time. “I was thinking about my mom.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said. “I’m sorry, Victor.”

“It’s been a few years now,” Victor shrugged. “Probably shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, you-you’re allowed to miss her. I can’t imagine how much I would miss my mom if she…” He couldn’t even think about. Yuuri leaned over and wrapped his arms around Victor. Victor was stiff for a moment in surprise, then he embraced Yuuri back. Yuuri felt a few hot tears through the fabric of his shirt, and he held on even tighter. 

After a few moments, Victor sat up. He looked out at the snow-covered suburban road and blinked a few times. Yuuri looked away as Victor wiped at his eyes. “It was cancer,” he said. “You’d think that would make it better, being able to prepare, but…it still hurts. And it was on Christmas too. Great birthday present, right?”

“Victor,” Yuuri started. He didn’t even know what to say. He’d known some of the details; it had been in the papers, and Yuuri had been decidedly obsessed with Victor by that time. But he’d never really considered what Victor might be feeling. Yuuri wrapped an arm around Victor and leaned against him. 

They sat together for a long time, not talking, just sitting together until Yuuri felt pretty sure that he was going to get frostbite. Victor was warm, but not that warm. “Do you maybe want to go inside?” Yuuri asked. 

“Oh, yeah, you must be freezing!” Victor exclaimed. He took Yuuri’s cold hands in his warm ones and pulled him up. The inside of the house was indeed very warm. “Thank you, by the way,” Victor said, and Yuuri looked at him. “For sitting with me.”

Yuuri shrugged. “It’s, it wasn’t, I mean…I didn’t mind. I’d sit with you anytime.”

Victor smiled at that, and it looked a little more genuine than the smile he’d given Yuuri earlier. “Want to help me cook?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed, and he joined Victor in the kitchen. They didn’t talk much as they worked. There wasn’t really a need for it. Yuuri peeled and chopped apples as Victor prepared some rolls. When all the apples were in pieces and were frying in a generous amount of butter, Victor smiled put together two mugs of hot chocolate. He clinked his with Yuuri’s then paused.

“Wait here, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuri said. Victor left the room, and Yuuri sipped at his hot chocolate as he waited for Victor to come back. When he did, he had a thin box in his hands, wrapped in bright red and green paper. 

“Merry Christmas,” Victor said, holding it out. 

Yuuri flushed as he took the gift. He tore off the paper and opened the box to find an elegant tie. He grinned at Victor. “Thanks.”

“And now you can burn that other one,” Victor laughed. “Now I know you don’t have a gift for me, but –“

“Oh, I do actually! I picked something up at my apartment. I’ll go get it.” Yuuri ran to the guest bedroom and dug through his backpack until he found the soft grey scarf he’d chosen for Victor. He held it behind his back as he’d returned. Victor had moved now to stand in the doorway, and Yuuri stopped just in front of him. “Sorry it’s not wrapped,” he said, holding out the scarf. “But Merry Christmas, and Happy Birthday too.”

Victor smiled. “I love it,” he said, but he set the scarf to the side. He hesitated and reached out to take Yuuri’s hand. “Yuuri,” he said. He opened his mouth and shut it, as if unsure what to say. 

“What is it?” Yuuri prompted. Did he not like the scarf? Was that it? Maybe he just didn’t like scarves, and that was why Yuuri never saw him wearing one. He should have done more research before just grabbing something.

“Look up,” Victor said finally, and Yuuri flicked his eyes upwards to see the bundle of green leaves hanging over their heads. Oh. Well, that was awkward. He wouldn’t have stood there if he’d realized. But…Victor had been waiting for him right here. He’d moved away from the main part of the kitchen to wait for Yuuri right here, under the mistletoe. Yuuri’s cheeks flushed. Did Victor actually _want_ to kiss him? Victor’s cheeks looked a little pink too as he looked down at Yuuri. “There’s only one thing I really want for Christmas.”

Before Yuuri could fully process what was happening, Victor was leaning towards him. Yuuri didn’t have to think to know he wanted this too. And now his lips were barely an inch from Victor’s, and they were going to –

There was a shout. “You fuckers couldn’t give a guy some warning?”

Yuuri jumped back with red cheeks as Victor’s brother stormed into the kitchen and grabbed one of the hot chocolates. “Sorry,” Yuuri said, stepping very pointedly away from the mistletoe. He couldn’t meet Victor’s eyes now. What would have happened if they had kissed? Probably nothing anyway. Yuuri doubted Victor _really_ liked him, at least not in the way Yuuri was hopelessly in love with _him_. But maybe next semester…Yuuri could win him over, or at least try to anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments. Once again, it's been a while since I've posted, but I'm so excited people are still into this. And now that it's past Thanksgiving, I as an American can justifiably start getting into the Christmas spirit (as if I haven't been playing Christmas music since Halloween). So, to everyone, Happy Holidays, whatever you celebrate!
> 
> Also the fried apples they start making in this are my favorite holiday food and super simple. Peel and chop however many apples you want and put them in a pot over low heat with a generous amount of butter. When the apples are fork tender, add cinnamon and sugar to taste and raise the heat to medium. Stir for about 5-10 more minutes depending on how many apples you have. Sorry for the vagueness, but I don't actually have a written recipe for this. After you cook it enough times, you don't really need one.


End file.
